Kingdom of Isles

The Keep on the Coast

To think the day started as any other, with drink and conversation at The Adept and Khaine lamenting once again about leaving the city to find adventure. Normally these musing fade like the setting sun as more spirits are consumed and… other… distractions found. Yet there was something in the air this day. Khaine’s words seemed to herald a change for as he spoke I watched the guardsmen walk into the tavern and post what would certainly change our lives forever … WAR!

WARgames rather. The crown was undergoing military exercises the likes we’ve never seen and after some debate we found ourselves joining the exercise with two new companions, the acolyte Brother Palomar and his mage friend Enoreth. By ship we traveled to the main land with a long boat depositing the 4 of us, 3 other volunteer’s and 3 cadets at a ruined outpost. Our mission was to establish a base camp with more orders to follow in the days to come.

As we approached the old dock, and through the rocking of my stomach in time with the waves, I noticed that the docks, old as they were, showed some signs of repair. Shoddy work it seemed but none the less it was clear others had been here. Assuming this was merely the work of the military in preparation for the exercise I advise my comrades mind their step. Not realizing this was the first of 2 clues that something was amiss.

The following day I broke camp early to help supplement our rations with fresh food. During my outing I noticed there serious lack of large game. A fact that seemed quite surprising to me with the amount of lush green foliage around and was the 2nd clue that was not right here. Upon returning to camp I mentioned this to Khaine as I attempted teach him how to dress and prepare the game. A task that a falchion is NOT the correct tool for.

It was not long after that riders were seen on the ridge eventually riding into our camp. They brought warning of Goblins in the area moving towards Kingdom encampments as if they knew they would be there. As we discuss the course of action Khaine’s sharp eyes caught movement in the brush. The time for talk had passed, and now the first fight for our lives had begun.

Magus Enoreth (a human conjurer) and myself, acquaintances since before I was ordained, allied with two boisterous warriors we met in a tavern called The Adept – Din’dae (an elven stalker) and Khaine (a human blademaster) – in response to the Kingdom of Isles’ proclamation of war games. Traveling to a region on the mainland near Rann’s Grotto, the four of us (along with a small contingent of Kingdom troops and other adventurers) found some nearby ruins and set about fulfilling our mission: creating a rest area for the treatment of casualties. During this work I was able to minister to my companions – particularly a young woman named Evana whose confidence in her calling had begun to waver.

Despite the simulated nature of the military exercises, the following morning brought to us a number of people suffering from real ailments. I ruled out foodborne illness (contrary to their suspicions) due to their presenting symptoms but despite my training and extensive examinations I hadn’t noticed what later turned out to be poison needle marks.

It was later that day, after Din’dae had returned with fresh game and we were preparing for dinner, that horse riders from the Order of Shards appeared with warnings that goblins were on the march. But their warning was too late and our camp was attacked by the vile humanoids at sunset. The battle was fierce, but thank the Sovereign Host, we were victorious and suffered only minor injuries which I soon tended.

Palomar is a god!

So… me long journey finally brought me feet and beard to a place where I could begin my true exploration of this world, and my quest to restore order to this chaos ridden world.
Me mediations directed me to an army outpost where they be conducting war games not far from Rand’s Grotto, and there I managed to attach myself to a party o’ surley sorts who were settin’ out to chase down some loathsome Goblins.
We found the Goblin alright and I plunked a good number o’ arrows in their no good, hides. The god were wid us fer certain! One o’ the god’s own was right there wid us, shouting out mighty calls o’ encouragement! His name were Palomar, an at first I thought he were a real pest, talking in me ears while I was takin’ aim. But then he starts encouragin, and healin, and shining god light all over the place! A humble sort he is too, not takin’ credit for his powers – a true sign of a good god, that is.
So wid the god’s help we womped them goblin sorts and there bosses, then we rescued some commoners they had forced into labor – excavating to old tunnels. Trying to find somthin’ if you ask me. Diggin to a hidden chamber I’d say.
A right good bunch of new friends I got now! That Kayne can really swing that big sword around, and Din’Dae hops around wid his new fairy blade like a jumpin’ flea. Enorth is a quiet sort, but good at sprayin’ the floor wid grease – a clever one he is. The really odd one is that Ru’She’Na gal, wid her little fox – gives me the shivers she do, but I can tell she’s a good sort – just don’t know what she’s about yet.
I do believe I’m goin to like these folks! Now I really need to buy meself a better bow, where’s the armory?

Din’dae lays napping in a glade so green as to use the word to describe anything else would belittle its meaning. As he sleeps a strong breeze blows across his resting form carrying leaves which caress his face as they pass by. The contact is enough to causes the elf to open his eyes and then sit up quickly with a hint of surprise upon his face.

Looking around the glade, as if not sure where he is, his eyes are drawn to the leaves that have continued their dance along the grass to a nearby sapling. There they spin about it’s branches briefly until the breeze finally subsides and they float silently and slowly to earth.

Sensing there is something special about this young tree Din’dae stands and moves towards it, each step taking in more detail. First he notices that the sapling has only 7 branches… why is that familiar he wonders… As he steps closer he sees that each branch has only one leaf… Yet it is not until he stands before it that he sees each leaf displays one name naturally engraved in silvery elven script upon its surface.

As he reaches to touch one, a strong breeze again blows causing the leaf to quickly turn… cutting the elfs finger. Naturally recoiling his hand Din’dae stares in wonder. Not merely at the silvery edge (now visible) of the leaf that the elf tried to touch, but the fact that all 7 leaves had turned in unison to meet the wind. A silvery edge seen in them all. They did not shake.. they did not waiver.. despite the direction of the breeze. Moving in unison, their angles always perfectly set to cut the air as it rushed by.

As the breeze continued a mist flowed with it and soon the elf’s vision was obscured. With it a an undeniable need to sleep took him and he once again laid down to rest…

Upon awakening in his tent that morning he again examined the newly acquired weapon of his ancestors. He noticed now there were eight names appearing on the haft of the Qadda’Ar-han in flowing Elven script… The name of Din’dae of house Vinchalla"

As he ran a finger over his name and said it aloud an answer, as if to an introduction, sprang to his mind… WindSplitter.

He stood and stared at the Qadda’Ar-han he held with a smile on his face. A rare display of emotion for him. He wondered if there was now an 8th branch on that silver leaf tree.

The party is relaxing in a small vine covered courtyard within the Cock N Bulls Tavern enjoying some unseasonal sun and warmth of a late Fall afternoon. Truth be told some party members have been getting bored with so much time on hand and some members have been drifting away on their own business.
From inside ‘The Bulls’ the muffled voice of the serving maid can just be heard directing some one out to the private courtyard.

A young Human lad of fifteen or so years enters through the open double doors that leads to the common room of the Cock N Bulls Tavern. Wearing the simple quilted leather armor of the Kings Golden Lions but the colors of Crown Prince Veritar you guess him to be a cadet earning his stripes in the officer corps.

With all the party members present and assents given, the messenger began to hand out small parcels and letters explaining that the camp is slowly breaking down as troops and civilians ship out for ports of origin now that the “war games” are finished. Further he explains that those assembled should be shipping out in the next few days. However a ship that arrived a few days ago had mail and packages from home for the party members.

Having finished his deliveries the messenger gives a polite bow and departs in a hurry for more deliveries.

On 300.1.1 Adamaro the Name-Giver did manifest within his temple at Kingshome and give pronouncement to all in attendance and his presence did transmute the Great Altar. Upon the Protector of All’s departure the altar shattered into thousands of pieces, both great and small, and it came to pass some time later that I took possession of one of these pieces – now called “godstone.”

When I touched the “godstone” there was a sound like thunder that deafened me (though I did not hear it) and a light that blinded me (though it illuminated my soul) and I was caught up to the heavens (whether in body or in spirit I do not know). There I stood awestruck in the Forge of Creation, in the presence of great celestial beings beyond my comprehension, in the presence of the Sovereign Host.

But beyond the Host, beyond the heavens, there was something else… an utter darkness of evil, a gaping void of annihilation, a malignant sentience of depredation. And it was coming closer.

Then a voice the sound of a thousand voices spoke to me, causing me to tremble but filling my soul like pure spring water:

Will you stand beside us Palomar… will you stand with us against that?

I had been weighed in the balance and found worthy. The Sovereign Host did entreat me to not only dedicate myself to the battle against evil but to willingly deny myself an ordinary life in order to embody their exalted teachings and serve the highest ideals, thus becoming a vessel of their will. Receiving my sacred oaths, the Host blessed me with the divine power to search men’s souls, smite the wicked, heal the innocent, and stand as a beacon of hope to the faithful.

I give thanks daily for your entrusting me with a shard of godstone. The Host has seen to it that your purpose in equipping me for good works of faith has not been in vain (as you have heard of our actions at the Battle of Rann’s Grotto and in the Ruins of Castle Slate). I have attached with this letter a copy of my journal entry regarding the divine vision revealed to me when I touched the godstone.

We set sail for Akadimar soon and I send this letter ahead of my arrival. Know that based upon what I have come across since departing Akadimar I purpose myself to the following:

The pursuit of a diplomatic resolution to the rising goblin threat – possibly uniting them with the Kingdom of Isles like the orcs.

Ferreting out the identity of the Unknown One and the forces that support it – and crushing them.

While we have become quite experienced with harrowing ordeals, making quick decisions, and depending upon each other for aid, I failed to consider the impact such a disaster as this shipwreck would have on a group of strangers. In my concern for their safety as well as our own, I allowed my pride to get the best of me. When they responded to my instructions with what I can only imagine was fear, worry, confusion and doubt, it evoked anger within me. You see, I used to be a prideful and demanding man and the Sovereign Host is not done doing a good work in me – I must still continue to choose that which is right and holy over my natural inclinations. Fortunately, my subsequent remorse and humility have in turn tapped a well-spring of compassion within my heart and I would still see to the well-being of our fellow castaways – and for this I need the help of you all.

Upon our return let us all express concern and support for our fellow castaways – inquiring regarding their health, caring for their needs, asking about their worries, seeking to understand their motivations, and treating them with kindness – as we go about the business of preparing camp and making further plans. Additionally, reassure them of whatever confidence you may have in me regarding my capacity as spokesman for our group. Then perhaps after such a time as we have done these things and consulted with each other, I should be able to secure their trust and cooperation in whatever endeavors we deem necessary.

No Walk in the Park

It has taken some time for me to gather my thoughts… So much has happened since last I wrote. After some downtime from the fighting we were finally slotted to be rotated home. I’ll admit I had mixed feelings about returning to Akadimar after experiencing a bit of the world beyond it’s coastline. Finding Windsplitter has shown me that the secrets of my heritage lie not in the Kingdom… but in the lands beyond. That is assuming we can get off this cursed island.

We were being rotated home aboard the Sea Otter, a nice enough vessel I suppose. The days passed with me keeping to my own thought more than usual (as I mentioned, I had mixed feelings about returning home). Perhaps if I were not so stuck in my own head I could have seen the signs of betrayal before they struck. Instead I awoke on a beach, head pounding, with my comrades and a few other passengers. The Sea Otter was wrecked and caught upon the reefs just off shore. But we were not alone… large crustaceans attacked the unconscious forms of the survivors, looking for an easy meal…

…their mistake.

After defeating these creatures, securing the beach as well as other passengers, we took stock for what we had and where we were. Through some discussion and consulting of maps we learned we were on Sailor’s Hook, a place of haunting myths and cannibalistic legends. So far my experiences here give these tales some validity.

Despite the harsh conditions and contracting Mindfire for a time I did my best to take care of the survivors the only way I knew how… by keeping them alive. I pushed myself hard everyday. Securing the camp each night, setting rations each morning and keeping alert till my eyes go blurry. All the while anger burned in my belly for the one who brought us here. The mysterious passenger Celia. A woman that by our accounts charmed the captain, and betrayed the crew. It is by her design that we landed on Sailor’s Hook. Although I doubt she cared if we survived.

It has now been several days upon the Hook. It is no walk in the park but together we push on. It is good that Palomar works to lift the spirits. Although I could do less with the preaching myself. I respect his view and that of the Sovereign Host but it is not my own. I look to the old ways of my people, and will seek to bring that culture back to fey if possible.

Still, his words seem to calm and soothe the nerves of the other passengers. Especially those of Ness Ramora. She was all manner of thunder and lightening before… now she seems to have found some comfort in his words. Perhaps more the way they read together each night. Odd timing to be focused on such things.

Of the other survivors, I seem to be getting along with Casandra well enough, although I fear she is a few birds short of a full flock. Still, her knowledge of nature makes it easy to discuss the needs of the camp. She has been the only one of the other survivors to routinely help with making and setting camp each night. I’ve conferred with her often sharing what I’ve learned of the flora and fauna here… If I fall she will be the groups hope to avoid any natural dangers.

But perhaps I myself am too focused on just survival. These are indeed individuals with something to say. Perfect example is the prison… no.. the Priest known as Dask. He was brought on board in chains and truth I gave him little thought. I’ve helped track down many a criminal for this reason or that. Yet through exploration of a known wreck we have found evidence that exonerates him of wrong doing. It was actually my close friend Khaine who supported the stop to give Dask a chance to prove his innocence.

I know that some of the others have stories… or have heard legends of Sailor’s Hook… as such I find my anger slowly being tempered by curiosity with my patience and logic returning. Perhaps the Mindfire’s lingering effects have finally abated showing me the questions that I wished answered.

Where is Celia going and why did she risk her (and our) life to come here?
What treasures lie off the coast, lost to time?
What is the winged creature that plagues our nights and my dreams?
What other secrets and dangers does this land hold?